Malapoten: An identity surrounding a lust for revenge; a deep-seated, brewing rage held back only by the grinding of your teeth. It’s been held back for so long, but you can finally see it begin to reach its inevitable resolution.
Rage creates us. Rage unmakes us. You know this. But as the night begins to crawl, with the infinite shades of black and blue swallowing the Sun, you conclude that it will all be worth it. It will all be over soon.
After all, how long has it been since you’ve been afflicted? A day, a month, a year? Does it matter to you? No. Of course not. You’ve been waiting ever-so patiently, and the fruits of your labor are close enough to be dug under your fingernails. It corrodes you- rot reaching your bones as your eyes grow bloodshot and tired, yet never blinking. Your veins pulse with life.
It’ll happen. Today, tomorrow. Perhaps in another life. But it will come. You will make sure of it.
